


She's the One

by TheWalkingDebt



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cute Kids, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Foster Care, Jealousy, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Swearing, Underage Kissing, mentioned James "Bucky" Barnes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9782879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWalkingDebt/pseuds/TheWalkingDebt
Summary: That’s it. No more. He refuses. Next time Bucky thinks this is the one, the one that’ll work out, he’s going to shove the past fifteen examples in the taller boy’s face. Especially this one. The one Bucky swore would work out. As if.





	

That’s it. No more. He refuses. Next time Bucky thinks this is the one, the one that’ll work out, he’s going to shove the past fifteen examples in the taller boy’s face. Especially this one. The one Bucky swore would work out. As  _ if _ .

Steve drops onto his bed with a world-heavy groan, burying his face in the starchy covers.

 

“What’s up, buttercup?” your teasing voice wakes him from his increasingly stormy thoughts, and he turns over, laying on his back to look up at you. You grin down at him in his thin white t-shirt and khaki pants, able to see his ribs and clavicle poking through, even under the baggy material.

 

“You’re gonna kill yourself someday,” he informs you with deadpan delivery. You grin, moving from one rafter to another, shrugging carelessly. He grimaces with worry at you, eyes following you naturally - nervously.

 

“Well, not like anyone would notice, right?” you mock, hanging from one of the rafters by your knees. “Besides, if they only  _ saw  _ me up here, they’d have a problem with it. Falling? Well, hey, I’m a clutz, aren’t I?”

You’re Steve’s foster sister, the family’s biological daughter. After his mother died, he had been shoved unceremoniously into the foster care system and left to rot. It had been particularly bad for a thirteen year old kid with more things wrong with his body than the Bubble Boy. 

Well, almost.

Now he’s almost eighteen, almost free of the system, and this is the most recent family paid to put up with him. You rather enjoy his company, though, having been an only child all this time. Your parents… well… they couldn’t really care less. As long as the state supplies them with money to take care of him, they aren’t going to complain. Too much.

So you sneak up here, to Steve’s room in the attic, whenever you can. Or want. It’s not like they can stop you.

 

“So they’d have a problem with you in my room, but not with you dead,” Steve smiles, and you grin back. He has an infectious happiness, and those blue eyes go straight through you. They make you feel all wobbly and dreamy-like inside, like a Jell-o tower had replaced all your major organs.

 

“Priorities, right, man?” you giggle, the rush of blood to your head becoming painful, so you swing back up. The rafters of the ceiling are entirely bare, making it a fun playground for you. Not so much for Steve. If he fell, he’d probably break his entire body. So, of course, he worries about you. He can’t imagine what he would do if you fell and…

 

“So how was your, uh, date?” you already know. Not just judging by the way he came in, but by every single ‘date’ before this one.

No offense to Steve, cuz you love him dearly, but most girls aren’t interested in small and skinny. (You rather like it, though, even if your friends think you’re crazy.)

 

He rolls his eyes, keeping them away from you as he sighs, “How’d you think?”

You make a face, then begin to scuttle down from the ceiling, using the area in between the chimney and the wall to sidle to the floor. You had discovered that, by squeezing your body between the chimney bricks and the plaster wall, you could ‘walk’ up to where you could grab at the rafters. Coming down is… a little more tricky.

 

“ _ Oof _ ,” you fall, a little harder than usual, but grin at Steve as you dust yourself off. “Lemme guess, bitch didn’t show?”

 

He nods, and you feel your heart and stomach sink at the brief disappointment clouding his eyes. You sit on the side of his bed, looking at his defeated expression with a fierce protective fire rearing its head in your chest. “Don’t fret, pet. I’ll beat her up for ya.”

 

He snorts, “You and what army?”

 

“Don’t need one, dummy,” you lightly punch his shoulder. “I’ll just spread the rumor that she slept with Clipton and got syphilis.”

 

“Don’t you dare,” he glares, but it lacks conviction.

 

“It’s how we girls fight, Stevie, don’t get your  _ pants  _ in a wad,” you chuckle. “Tell ya what, you can fight the guys, if I can fight the girls.”

 

“We’re gonna be the most popular kids at school,” Steve shuts his eyes, smirking. You stare at his face while he’s oblivious, feeling sympathy and a new rush of anger flow through you. Whatever girl thinks he isn’t a total package must be deaf, dumb, and blind.

 

“She wasn’t worth your time,” you sigh, finally. “Bucky has a strange taste in girls…”

 

“Pretty ones?” Steve asks dully, blinking beautiful baby blues at you.

 

“ _Bimbos_  and jerks,” you reply sharply, slightly hurt that he would call all these girls ‘beautiful’ when they weren’t even worth his most random of thoughts. It’s probably jealousy, you might admit, but it’s not something you would ever say out loud. You’re just… you. You’re not someone Steve would find beautiful or interesting... “They clearly can’t see what they’re missing.”

 

“Oh yeah, all this,” he gestures at himself, looking away with a huff.

 

“Yeah, all that,” you grin, and if he would just look at you, he’d see how utterly gone you are on him. How completely head-over-heels you are for him. “Total hunk, Steve Rogers.”

 

He actually laughs aloud at that, still staring up at the ceiling, turning pink with embarrassment. “Ah, good one… But girls don’t like guys they can step on.”

 

You raise your eyebrows at him, “You callin’ me a dude, Rogers?” He looks at you, surprised, redder still. You realize how your words can be taken, and you worry that… well… what if he doesn’t take it well?

 

“Uh, I mean…” he stammers a bit, floundering, and you notice his glance goes towards your lips. You smile, heartbeat thundering in your head. Did that mean anything? It must, right? You’re not just reading into it…? “Y-you’re a girl, but you… you’re not…”

 

“I’m not like them?” you ask softly, making sure to glance at his lips, then raise your eyes back to his slowly. He’s going tomato red, and it’s fucking  _ adorable _ . Blood pulsing loud and clear in your ears, you scoot a bit closer, tipping your head sideways to his.

 

“N-n-no, yo-you’re…” his breathing seems to be quickening, but not in his usual asthmatic way. You’re close enough now to see his pupils dilating, and his voice gets a little squeaky.

 

“I’m what?” you murmur, pushing back at his floppy golden hair, rewarded by his instinctual little gasp. Those pink lips looking so soft and… kissable.

 

“You’re…” Steve starts, breathily, but you can’t resist anymore. 

You’re gentle, careful, just starting with a peck on those candy sweet lips, but he gave up speaking to return the kiss. He pushes up and into it, and you’re responding back just as happily. Maybe a little too happily. You quickly straddle his waist, one hand in his hair, the other cradling his jaw. He tastes like peppermint gum and smells warm and summery. He feels like home. Being this close, lips locked in feverish desire, you feel a growing warmth flooding your body. You’re not about to act on that… but  _ God _ do you want to.

Excuse you for being just a bit old-fashioned, though. Maybe that's why Steve likes you.

And, because well, you’re probably the first girl to actually pay attention to him. You still can’t believe nobody has seen him for the beautiful old soul he is, that no one has scooped up this marvelous catch, when all you want is wrapped up in this fragile but gorgeous body.

Then you realize that he actually is having a hard time breathing and you have to break it off.

 

“You okay?” you pant, nearly nose to nose with him, hair falling into his face even as you pull it back.

 

“Y-yeah, I just,” his wheezing is clear, and you reach over for the inhaler on his bedside table, handing it to him.

 

“So I leave you breathless?” you smirk as he takes his medicine. He only glares poutily at you, much to your delight, taking in a deep breath with his inhaler.

 

“Stupid…” he grumbles, looking away with annoyance, tossing the little medical device to the foot of his bed.

 

“Hey,” you tilt his head back to you, smiling widely. “It keeps you alive. I’m happy about that.”

 

He hasn’t stopped being scarlet yet, it seems. “C-Can I…?” he glances meaningfully at your lips again, blue eyes clear. “Can we…?”

 

“Can I kiss you, Rogers?” you brush noses, grinning wildly, just excited you knew the answer. Finally.

 

“Oh please,” he sighs, eyes already fluttering shut, and you revel in the feeling of his hair tangled in your fingers. You itch to take off shirts and just feel more and more skin against each other. ...But with your parents home, you should probably try to keep it somewhat PG. Steve mumbles something against your hair as you bruise up his neck and shoulders with hard kisses, humming happily to yourself.

 

“Hmm?” you murmur, drawing back, nosing him with a pleased purr. “What?”

 

“You’re the one,” he smiles dumbly, happily.

 

“One what?” but you can feel the warm happiness suffusing you, curling your toes.

 

“For me,” he presses his face into the crook of your neck and shoulders, hiding his scarlet blush. “My one.”

 

“You’re my one too, Steve Rogers,” you whisper back, kissing his temple and cheek, brushing aside the golden bangs. “My one and only...” You just love how he falls apart beneath you.

  
  
  
  



End file.
